My younger daughter was chatting to me the other day about her ‘current’ plan to come a book acquisitions editor, and how she could even see herself wearing lovely business suits. I laughed and described my business attire from the late 1980s. Yes, you guessed it: high-heel shoes, padded shoulders, pencil skirts, permed hair (cringing as I write this).
These days, I go to work in my yoga pants (well, actually, I’m typing this in my pyjamas as I’ve not yet made it to the shower). Yesterday, I was thinking about how lovely it is to work from home, and that I set my own hours (I’m disciplined, so there’s no chance of me slacking) and can take breaks when I like: go to the movies, pop into the bookshop, go to the gym, walk through the woods with a friend, sit in the sunshine, hang out the washing…
The aroma of the root-vegetable and lentil soup I had on the stove made its way right through the house and up into my writing room. It sure smelt good. Unlike being in an office, I can eat lunch at 11am, noon or 3pm, depending on when I feel like eating, rather than when I am 'allowed' to eat. Ah, yes, how I love working from home. It also means that if the creative urge strikes at 4am I can either toss and turn or I can scamper upstairs and get to work. My autonomous working life suits me to the ground, and I can’t imagine ever having to go out to work for someone else again.
If you dream of being self-employed, follow your heart.